Immortal Crack
by Jack Brocket
Summary: The notorious My Immortal, slightly cracked. Abandoned - for now.
1. Who's Mary Sue?

_I promise I don't usually bite troll bait, but this is ridiculous. It's a good thing JK Rowling's not dead, because she'd be rolling in her grave. Like many before me, I have to fix it. So here is My Immortal, my way. I would actually prefer it if you didn't read this. Close your eyes._

_A word of warning: I probably sound extremely coarse concerning things that shouldn't really be mocked. I mean no insult when I get to the bits about self-mutilation, call girls, or the nature of the goth scene. _

_Standard disclaimers, with the addition of Tara Something, etc._

_W_

* * *

><p>One.<p>

**AN: Special thanks to my girlfriend Raven for helping me with the story and spelling. You rock! Justin you're the love of my life, you rock too! MCR rocks! Everybody rocks!**

Hi. My name is Ebony Darkness Dementia Raven Black Black Black Way. I have long black hair and icy blue eyes. I'm a vampire. I'm a witch. I'm a goth. I think elegant description is preppy. Wasn't I just a disaster waiting to happen?

I was having a pleasant stroll around the lake, since the weather was awesome: both snowy _and _rainy. Which was really lucky, actually, because if the sun shone in the daytime I'd sparkle like a bad acid trip and that would just suck.

Ha. Geddit? Suck?

'Hey, Ebony!' Somebody called. I looked up. Draco was running toward me, waving his hand and grinning.

'What's up, Draco?' He did one of those rapid mood swings, this particular episode featuring exuberance and then bashfulness.

'Nothing,' he said, ducking his head and shuffling a shoe in the dirt. Not particularly interested in a conversation with a guy I secretly worshiped like a blonde Zeus - no, wait, Zeus is preppy, so maybe Hades - I pretended to hear somebody call my name from across the grounds and skipped away.

**AN: I'd like to waste an author's note on bad grammar and a stupid pun. **

* * *

><p>Two.<p>

**AN: I have a quota. There must be at least one author's note before, after, and somewhere within each chapter. And I'm not allowed to say intelligent things in these notes. Sharp animal teeth for the beta, Raven! And stupid prep losers stop flaming, you know this is the best fic you've ever read in your pink, daisy-filled lives!**

The next day I woke up in my bedroom, which was weird because I'd gone to sleep in a lava-pit of death. Yesterday's leftover snow and rain flurried and plummeted, respectively, outside my window. I smiled again at the nice weather, hopped out of my ridiculously gothic coffin and downed a bottle of blood I'd nicked from Professor Snape's stash. Then I had entirely too much fun dolling myself up for no particular reason.

Willow **[AN: Raven, if you don't know this is you then you're a dumb prep] **woke up then. 'Why are you doing your makeup here and not in the bathroom where you can see yourself?'

'I don't need to see myself.' I said proudly. That was how much I did my makeup. Willow smiled like that was totally awesome, rolled out of bed and put on some gothic clothes. We were doing a protest against uniforms with pretty much the whole student body and roughly half the staff; the stupid robes were wizard-wear, and wizard-wear was so last season on the goth scene.

'So,' Willow said coyly, pulling out her own makeup bag and doing her lips (she didn't quite get them perfectly like I did mine) to prove she was cool like me. 'I saw you talking to Draco Malfoy yesterday.'

'Yeah.' I said, blushing under my foundation (because I have this special power of being able to blush that sets me apart from other, lesser vampires). 'So?'

'So do you like him?' She demanded as we went into the Great Hall, which we magically moved to the other side of the common room door because we were really way too gothic to walk _that _far.

'I _so fucking _do not!' I howled, doing a rapid mood swing like Draco had done yesterday.

'Yeah, right!' She shouted right back. Then, her part in the scene done, she conveniently flickered out of existence and was replaced by Draco.

'Hi.' Draco said, with that totally gothic way with words he has.

'Hi.' I batted my eyelashes and made my icy blues really, really big.

'Guess what.' The effort was wasted on him.

'What?' I pouted.

'Good Charlotte are having a concert in Hogsmead.'

I screamed like a little girl. Oh, my Santa! Good Charlotte were playing in a little wizarding village in the middle of nowhere! They must be going Indie! That was so gothic! But they were so mainstream that the wizarding community knew about them! That was even _more _gothic! _Oh, my Santa!_

'I want you to go with me.'

I gasped dramatically.

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><p>Three.<p>

**AN: So I flubbed the last post's quota. I'll make it up eventually. And maybe it'll help if I use progressively worse spelling and grammar. Really sharp animal teeth for betaing, Raven! Other sharp animal teeth to all the goths who are pretending to like my story because they want to see how god-awful it can really get! Preps, you're just jealous! Oh, and I don't own the lyrics to **_**Good Charlotte's Chronicles of Life and Death**_**; you can tell because the spelling is waaaaaay better. I just copied and pasted.**

The night of the concert gave me bona fide excuse to dress myself up like a call girl straight out of a Halloween costume catalogue, although after I'd put it all on I felt suddenly depressed because my author thought her readers might take me for a prep if I didn't. So I had to make myself bleed and then read a depressing book like all sane people do after self-mutilating. Then I did my makeup, chugged some blood to kill fic-time, and was ready for the concert.

Draco was waiting by his car when I got to the secret place my author never names where it's perfectly in accordance with school rules to keep a gothic flying car. Actually, I don't really know why he drives a magicked Muggle car if he's such a pureblood-ethnocentrist, but he does and he's hot so I don't care.

'Hi, Draco,' I droned sadly.

'Hey, Ebony.' He droned sadly. We walked into the car, stubbed our toes on the tires, swore violently, and opened the doors. GC was blasting and the joint was lit before we even lifted off. You should try flying a car when you're toking. It's friggin' trippy, and somehow you never hit anything or fall out of the sky. The GC CD was peppered with Marilyn Manson, which would have been an odd combination if we weren't so gothic and baked.

I was surprised, even in my state, to discover that Good Charlotte were playing in a club that had magically sprouted out of the ground next to the Hog's Head. Draco and I wove through the crowd, headed for the mosh pit, which was oddly located at the front of the crowd. We jumped up and down like people who have never been in a mosh pit before.

"_You come in cold, you're covered in blood_

_They're all so happy you've arrived_

_The doctor cuts your cord, hands you to your mom_

_She sets you free into this life." _

**[AN: I already said I don't own the lyrics.]**

'Joel is so fucking hot,' I shouted to Draco over the din, pointing at the singer in case he didn't know which one Joel was.

Draco looked sad, and I was perplexed. What kind of alien doesn't like to be told by his date that some other guy is fucking hot? Oh, wait, shit!

'Well, I don't like him better than _you, _stupid!' I said.

'Really?' Draco asked, managing somehow to look all vulnerable and uncertain while jumping up and down in a mosh pit. Then he put his arm around me and we hopped awkwardly together.

'Duh. I don't even know the guy. Besides, he likes preps.' I shuddered.

The weed got to my head, so I don't much remember the rest of the concert. I do know it was a really good time; the best nights are the ones you can't remember! I also know we got Joel and Benji to sign our asses and take photos with us - such goth guys. After the concert I think we drank.

Which was probably how we ended up in the Forbidden Forest.

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><p>Four.<p>

**AN: No, I'm not spelling my character's name wrong! And no, I'm not spelling it wrong again in this note! What the hell is a Mary Sue, you preppy idiots? Draco is so madly, deeply, and TOTALLY in love with Ebony that he's gone and switched with his bipolar, fake-goth twin!**

'Draco!' I screamed as we flew just above the tree line. 'Why the fuck are we in the Forbidden Forest?'

Draco didn't answer, but he did stop the car and walk out. Which was kind of stupid as he hadn't landed. The fall was kind of long. But it was okay, he popped back up like a weasel. Amazed at his feat, I walked out on midair too, fell, and sprang back up. It was super gothic.

'What the fucking hell?' I demanded. How did we _do _that?

'Ebony?' He asked. His tone of voice sobered me immediately. Well, it made the world sort of narrow to him, anyway.

'What?' I snapped, annoyed at the tunnel vision.

Draco leaned in extra close, and I mean _extra _close. Close enough that I was staring into the depths of his smouldering red Muggle contact lenses, which radiated despair and evil. Or maybe that just the colour. I had another miniature MPD episode and stopped being cross.

And then he climbed on top of me like an animal. It was so hot. My back was hitting the tree behind me with every thrust. We didn't even get around to taking off our clothes until about halfway through.

'Oh, my god, oh, my god, ohmygoooood,' I muttered for show, concentrating. I thought I was getting an orgasm… no, wait… was _that _a hint of an orgasm? Oh. Oh, man. _That _was an or-

'What the fuck are you fucking doing, you fucking motherfuckers?'

The orgasm vanished like a sneeze that's been shocked away. Draco and I stopped dead, our two heads peeking out of a pile of limbs in a bigger pile of leaves at the tall figure not two feet away.

It was _Dumbledore! _What the fuck was he doing in the Forest in the middle of the night? More importantly, why was he so extraordinarily out of character, saying shit like that?

'We…' Draco said into the silence. 'were… looking for unicorns?'

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><p>Five.<p>

**AN: Stop flaming, dammit! Flamers are preps and posers, and you don't want to be preps, do you? Preps are Antichrist! So what if I suck at keeping people in character! I won't tell the rest of my epic cool goth story until you give me a cookie for being epic cool gothic! **

Dumbledore made us follow him back to school, yelling awkwardly over his shoulder. I wondered briefly if he was high too. 'You ludicrous fools! You dim-witted gerbils! You -' and on and on, so beside himself that he couldn't even formulate an insult that didn't consist of one adjective and one noun. Draco and I followed behind meekly, wondering at his vocabulary and hoping the car hadn't drifted into a tree somewhere. I started to cry at the thought, making sure the tears were making dramatic bloody streaks down my face so that Draco would put his arm around my shoulder again. We walked a little drunkenly.

Professors Snape and McGonagall were waiting in Dumbledore's office. It seemed like Dumbledore had made a special trip just to apprehend us. What a jerk. Why is everybody out to get a super-gorgeous fake goth like me? My life is so unfair.

'These troublesome ingrates were engaging in sexual intercourse!' Dumbledore yelled, his voice cracking slightly from overuse. 'In the Forbidden Forest! Gah!' He threw up his hands. Draco and I stood just inside the door together, hanging our heads.

'Why,' McGonagall asked, lips pursed, 'would you do such a thing, you mediocre dunces?' Wow. These people were running out of adjectives and nouns.

'How dare you?' Snape asked, giving up on the theme altogether.

Draco exploded, quite suddenly and absurdly, making me jump: 'BECAUSE I LOVE HER!'

The silence was deafening. A pin dropped somewhere in the dungeons. Dumbledore retained his madcap scowl, and McGonagall's lips were so pressed they might not exist in another minute, but Snape sighed.

'All right. Fine. You are free to go.'

'_What_?' His colleagues demanded in tandem.

'What, what?' Snape spread his hands helplessly. 'Malfoy's in love with our Mary Sue. Everyone knows that Mary Sue can never get in real trouble or be disliked by anyone or one-upped in any way at all. There's nothing to be done.'

The adults made various noises of discontent and glared at the two of us. I looked at Draco, and back at them.

'Who's Mary sue?'

I think I forgot the bit after that. You know how being high is like riding waves? Well, a wave hit me then, and I never got the answer to my question. I came back down again on the stairs to the Slytherin dungeon, to the sound of our footsteps scuffing the stone steps as one in the night.

'Are you okay, Ebony?' Draco asked quietly.

'Yeah.' I said. I should have been. I'd just been caught fornicating in the Forbidden Forest by none other than Albus Dumbledore and got off scot-free. I'd just had animal sex with the boy I loved. The boy I loved had just said he loved me. But I was having a really hard time trying to come up with something to be depressed about, and it was pissing me off. Draco winced at my tone and tried to follow me into the girls' wing, but got zapped by an invisible force because boys aren't supposed to go in the girls' wing, dammit.

I changed into an ornate gothic dress and high heels no one in their right mind would wear to sleep. I combed my hair. I went to the bathroom to brush my teeth. All the while I pondered over the events of the night, wondering most of all who on earth was Mary Sue. Sighing with the futility, I left the bathroom.

And almost ran into Draco. How the hell had he -

'_I need an alarm system in my house,_' he crooned.

_So I know when people are creeping about_

_These people are freaking me out (these days)_

_It's getting hectic everywhere that I go_

_They wont leave me alone_

_There's things they all wanna know.'_

Oh, Draco! So inappropriate, why would you pick that song for this moment, and why do you think the situation calls for a song, but you're _singing to me! _I ran to him and threw my arms around him and we kissed. My foot popped and everything. It was so romantic and uber-gothic, all my problems just flew right out of my mind, and even when we reluctantly parted I forgot to remember about Mary Sue Who.

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><p><em>Afterword: My God, that was liberating. I should do this more often. By the way, those of you who are actually reading, what the hell would I call this? A crack-fic? A satire? Help me out, I don't know what the hell to put in the summary<em>**.**


	2. Toxic

_Foreword: Here's the next batch of midget chapters. This is quite fun, I might actually do the whole thing. _

_Standard disclaimers, with the addition of Tara Whatever, etc._

_W_

* * *

><p>Six. (Six six. Ha, geddit?)<p>

**AN: Blah blah blah, fill my quota, blah blah, preps suck, etcetera. I'm not updating till you tell me you love my bad spelling!**

The next day I woke up in my coffin. This was getting to be a bad habit; was I sleep-walking out of the lava-pit of death at night? I switched out my overly ornate nightie for another Halloween call girl costume and spray painted my hair purple instead of using magic like normal people.

I had to bring my own Count Chocula and bottle of blood upstairs to breakfast - I'm still petitioning for the house elves to stock it in the kitchens, but they seem to think it's racist and that the combination of blood and Count Chocula is 'just too much.' Whatever. It's good shit.

The day got off to its official start when some ass bumped into my back and spilled the blood all over my costume. Fuck my life, right?

'Bastard!' I shouted a little too loudly, pressing a hand and then a napkin to my bosom. I looked up to rip the guy a new one but my voice died a horrible death in my throat when I saw my antagonist. I should mention I have this disorder where I forget every guy I've ever met before when I see a new pretty face. My doctor is looking for a pill. But all those other times I completely forgot my boyfriend because of a pair of big, red, evil eyes are microscopic compared to this. _This _was Vampire Potter, his skin all gothic pale and makeupy, his stupid symbolic lightning scar wiped out now_, _just like _Harry Potter _canon_. _I'd never had an episode this bad before; not only did I forget Draco, I almost jizzed right there.

'I'm so sorry.' Vampire said quietly, making no move to help clean up the mess. Probably because he was too sensitive to touch the girly parts which were the scene of said mess. Aww.

'It's okay.' I said, unable to stay mad at such a gothic ability to be both sensitive and evil. 'What's your name?'

'They call me Vampire.' He said, sounding surprised at the question. Most everybody at Hogwarts knows who he is. Obviously I knew too, but I'm bad at making conversation.

'Why?' I asked. It couldn't have anything to do with the epic-goth ensemble or the sulking red eyes.

'Because I vant to drink your blood.' He twitched his fingers in a claw and made an oogly face. Well, _that _was insulting. But it was okay, he was hot.

'_I'm _a vampire.' I informed him.

'Really?'

'Yeah.'

'That's so gothic!'

We sat down to talk for a while. The blood on my front evaporated nicely since it had served its purpose in the scene, and I forgot about it completely.

Abruptly, Draco appeared in the seat next to me. He startled Vampire, who spilled the bottled blood again.

'I have a surprise for you,' Draco said to me, ignoring Vampire completely. My boy-forgetting disorder striking again, I followed him as in a trance out of the Great Hall.

.

Seven. (Minus one. Hee hee.)

**AN: You DO love my bad spelling! Aww, you're such wonderful goths. Now gimme a tin god or I won't give you more gothness. And stop flaming or I'll report you! Ebony isn't a Mary Sue, dammit, how can Mary Sues be depressed Satanist goths? And no, I did not just spell her name wrong again.**

Draco and I were the picture of gothic love as we descended again to the Slytherin dungeons. Vampire had apparated from the Great Hall to the common room in order to stare at us in agony as we passed. I basked a little and was grateful for the gesture, giving him a wave before I vanished with Draco into the boys' dormitory. Draco didn't have his own room like I did, but it was empty. We locked the door and fell in a tangle of limbs on his bed. Then we kissed passively because our author doesn't know how to spell 'passionately.' Then he put his boy's thingy in mine and we HAD SEX because our author can't spell the word 'penis' and somebody sniggered at her for saying 'did it' in an earlier chapter. And I'm secretly transsexual. Shh.

'Oh, Draco! Oh, Draco!' I screamed. _That _was an orgasm coming on, yes it was, _ooooh - _And suddenly, with extraordinary presence of mind in the throes of lovemaking, I saw a tattoo on Draco's bicep. The orgasm evaporated again, sneeze-like, and I let out a shocked, wordless cry.

Vampire.

The tattoo read 'Vampire.'

'You bastard!' I shouted, shoving him off and stumbling out of bed.

'No, Ebony,' Draco cried, staggering after me, 'Please, you don't understand!' He tried to touch my shoulder as I yanked on my costume, and followed me when I stormed out of the dorm and through the hallways. Draco, stark-naked and still supplicating as he followed in my wake like a puppy, attracted looks and indignant cries from all sides but ignored all with the intrepid single-mindedness of spurned, gothic love. 'Ebony, please -'

'Vampire Potter!' I screamed, blasting open the doors of the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom with a mighty wave of my wand.

.

Eight.

**AN: Blah, blah, another useless author's note, blah, blah, stop flassing, you preps.**

Every single head shot up, including Snape's, although the professor simply sighed in frustration and turned back to correcting papers. Even across the room, my epic vampire hearing picked up the words, 'bloody Mary Sue.' I ignored him. Draco and I made a simply beautiful scene against the arched double doors, like something out of a painting: me standing in the centre radiating thunderous fury, my Halloween call girl costume whipping about in the magical wind; he practically on his knees, stripped of clothing as a symbol of stripped dignity, begging me for mercy; Vampire's class staring at me in awe from the margins. Maybe, if somebody ever does that painting, they could put a bitch collar and leash on Draco? That would make it so gothic and perfect!

'Ebony, it's not what you think.' Draco pleaded. Not very creative, but someone had to get the ball rolling.

My friend B'loody Mary Smith - I never understood why she stuck that random apostrophe in her chosen first name, but I totally get why she wouldn't like "Granger." Way not gothic. - smiled at me. She wasn't fazed by Draco's nudeness at all, and instead appreciated the tableau with a practiced eye. I mean, you know, she has a way intense life, having been born of two vampires, one of whom is a witch, I never knew which, you can never tell with vampires, and then kidnapped for no real reason except to badly justify the name change from 'Hermione,' and _then_, either before or after she was kidnapped Voldemort killed her mother, and her father committed suicide because it made him sad. Apparently. _And _she's Satanist and suddenly in Slytherin, since she's so seriously suicidal and shit. Now say that ten times fast.

Once I'd rehashed her tragic life, Twisted Scary Hermione vanished.

'What is it that you desire, Mary Sue?' Snape snapped, bored, chin in one hand. I ignored him contemptuously.

'Vampire Potter,' I repeated, 'You're a homo!'

Everyone gasped dramatically.

(Abrupt, pointless POV switch)

He was not! He was _bi! _I defended Vampire instinctively, at least in my head. I did love him still, after all; even after that _prep _Britney Gold tore us apart. He was tortured and a victim of his circumstances and everything a good goth should be! Everything, everything! I opened my mouth to protest, but Ebony beat me to words:

'I can't believe you cheated on me with Draco!' She roared at Vampire.

Everyone gasped dramatically.

'What?' Vampire cried, shocked. 'I never dated you!'

'No_, _stupid_, _Draco! You know I'm dating Draco, and you fucked him!'

'But I'm not going out with Draco anymore!'

_I'm standing - prostrating right here!_

(Another abrupt, pointless POV switch)

'Yeah, right! A plague o' both your houses!' I screamed, swished my wand to make my costume billow marvellously again, and stormed out.

…

Everyone gasped dramatically.

.

Nine. (Nine, nine, upside down. Giggle.)

**AN: Pointless note, I didn't read all of the books and I still know everything, ldkghdflkgdflgkjd, 'cause Dumbledore swears in the film, af;vbfdksmvf, shitty English, kjafnfkfbdskldjfgk, Snape and Harry switched bodies, oehgqleghflsdkljhs, HE HAS A HEADACHE DAMMIT.**

My rage warred with my grief as I fled the castle into the Forbidden Forest and found the tree against which Draco and I had made passionate animal love. The thunder cracked overhead and the rain came down through the treetops as sleet, rendering the whole world stark with the divine expression of my inner storm. I threw myself against that tree and touched the marks our bodies had made in the forest floor and wept. It seemed as though the very storm front sang to me with all the voices of the despairing and the discarded:

'_These wounds won't seem to heal, _

_This pain is just too realThere's just too much that time cannot erase…'_

Except, I realised suddenly through my tears, it wasn't the chorus of the desolate and the spurned. It was the high-pitched, evil voice of -

'Voldemort!' I gasped. The tall, pallid figure swept closer through the darkness, red eyes gleaming evilly in the night. The Dark Lord, the Ultimate Goth, the Master of Allllllll, was standing before me _singing Evanescence!_

I started crying again, this time with pure happiness. Lord Voldemort! I, humble little vampire witch goth, was standing in the presence of Lord Voldemort! I reached out to touch the hem of his robes.

He stepped on my hand.

'Aieee!' I yelped, snatching it back. 'What was that for?'

Voldemort stared down at me like I was a particularly flattened leech. 'Thou may not touch me, puny mortal.'

'Puny - what? Do you know who I am?' I asked indignantly. 'I'm Ebony Darkness Dementia Raven Black Black Black Way! And I'm _not _mortal!'

'Whatever. Thou art all the same to me. Anyway. Thou have to kill - hang on, which one be-eth it, again? - Malfoy? Or was it Potter? I knoweth not, it doesn't matter. One of them. Thou must kill Vampire Potter.'

'What?' I cried, putting a hand to my forehead, delicately, like one of those goth chicks in really old horror movies. I thought of Vampire and his jizz-inducing evil eyes and his epic goth hair and the way he could morph his face between those of all my favourite singers. I realised, way too late for intelligence but just in time for a really bad chapter climax, that just maybe he hadn't had an affair with Draco after all, but had simply dated him _before _Draco and I got together! Oh, my Santa! I couldn't possibly kill him now!

'NEVER!' I screamed defiantly. Voldemort shrugged his shoulders and held out a gun. Under his spell, I had no choice but to reach out and accept it.

'Why?' I sobbed.

'Because killing people with magic is for prepeths and losereths.' He answered.

'No! Why do I have to kill Vampire?'

'Oh, that. Duh. Because thou art Mary Sue. This whole story be about thee. Canon matters not when Mary Sue needeth conflict. Anywayeth. If thou dost not kill Harry - shit, I meaneth Vampire - Potter with this gun, then thou know'st what shall happen to thy beloved Draco!'

'How did you know I love Draco?' I gasped. Voldemort paused, mid-dramatic-gesture, and glared at me as though I had brain damage or something. I was a little insulted.

'I hath telekinesis.' He said. 'I moved the thought from thy head to mine.'

'Hang on, I thought moving shit with your mind was called telepathy.' I frowned, deeply confused. Then I gasped again. 'What do you mean? What's going to happen to Draco?'

Voldemort twitched. 'Just shut up! Eth! I'm gonna fucking kill him! If thou dost not kill thy stupid boyfriend with this fucking gun, don't come crying to me when Draco turns up dead. Eth, eth, eth. GEDDIT?'

'Goddit.' I said meekly.

'Good! Stupid prep!' Voldemort banged his palm against his face, snarled and flew away.

Draco pulled his materialising trick before I had time to process what had just happened. Startled, I squealed like a little girl and did a rapid mood swing. 'Draco! Hi!'

'I thought you were mad at me,' Draco said wretchedly, scuffing the dirt with his shoe.

'No! Well, yeah, but that was before I figured out you didn't cheat on me with Vampire! I'm so sorry, Draco.'

'That's okay.' He said morosely. We left the forest together, making out awkwardly as we walked. I forgot to tell him about how I had to kill Vampire or Voldemort would kill him, Draco, which was lucky because later Draco would need an excuse to be mad at me and kill himself.

.

Ten.

**AN: Stoppit, you gay faggots, I'm using the word faggot even though I've said on numerous occasions that I think gay guys are soooo cuuuute, flaming is for PREPS. PREPS, PREPS, PREPS.**

I angsted inwardly about Voldemort all the next day. I didn't stop angsting even when I went to practice with , the epic cool goth band in which I fulfil every girl's dreams of rock stardom and the other members sit around being my groupies. Scary Hermione, Devil Ron and Hargrid, Hagrid's evil and younger brother, were all there today, but Vampire and Draco were not, so we sat around and wrote songs. It didn't really bother me that Draco was probably holed up in his dorm slitting his wrists - a totally logical action considering the love of his life had just made everything okay between them after a really huge-bad-ugly fight - he'd been turned into a vampire sometime between last night and this morning and therefore couldn't die unless you slapped him with a steak or a cra…croo… c-r-o-s-s. Sorry. Took me a minute to spell that word, I get a little confused.

In the bathroom just outside the unnamed place where rehearsals take place, I changed into something more suitable for the hysterics I was about to throw in the next scene. Then, back with the rest, I did an acoustic cover of My Chemical Romance's _Helena, _singing and playing to the supportive cheers of the others. Just as the last note faded, for bad dramatic effect, I burst into tears.

'Ebony! Are you okay?' Scary Hermione cried, the quintessence of a concerned sidekick.

'What the fuck do you think?' I demanded. Then, unable to hold in my sob story, I told everyone everything. 'And it's a really stupid thing, a terrible plot twist, and if I don't commit murder without magic then Draco will die!'

Draco did his materialising trick. 'You fucking poser Muggle bitch!'

I started the waterworks. Draco started to bawl too, and ran out of the room.

'Well,' said Hargrid after a moment of silence broken only by my tears and Scary Hermione's shushing. 'That was retarded. Can we stop practicing now?'

'No!' I cried. 'No! The show must go on!'

So we practiced for another hour, giving Dumbledore, who had nothing better to do than cater to my drama, ample opportunity to stomp in angrily. Which he did.

'Ebony!' He roared. 'What have you done?'

Then he started to cry. To the silence in the practice room he said, 'Draco Malfoy has been found dead.'

Everyone cried.

* * *

><p><em>Afterword: I lied, this is not fun. Good God, someone restrain me. My writing is getting worse through osmosis. My brain is liquefying. This thing is toxic.<em>


	3. But He's Dead!

_So it's been a while, for which I apologise. College is hard. But look: here's more!_

_Again, I mean no offence when I satirise the bits that involve self-harm and suicide._

_Standard disclaimers, and Tara Whatserface, etc._

_W_

* * *

><p>Eleven.<p>

**AN: Everybody stop FLAMING, I don't understand why nobody likes my horrible PLOT and my painful MECHANICS! This chapter isn't STUPID, you'll see, it deals with serious SHIT like steak and inconsistency!**

'NOOOOOOO!' I screamed dramatically. To be honest it was pretty bad acting. I mean, I couldn't even muster an action to go with the screaming, I just sort of stood there. So I kind of had to compensate by bitching Scary Hermione out when she tried to comfort me like a good groupie. Then I ran out of the Unspecified Room, and Dumbledore followed me, shouting unintelligibly and waving his hands around. He stopped just short of the point at which he would have become a paedophile. Because being a pervert is totally defined by exactly how long you chase after a teenage goth when she looks suicidal. I mean, you know. Who tries to keep a girl from self-damaging? It's perverted.

Anyway, I started crying tears of blood, which was odd because at first they were normal tears and I've already established like eight billion times that I cry _blood. _I slit both of my wrists, and then rubbed them all over my clothes for an excuse to change my costume again. At the last minute I decided I didn't have the mental capacity to compose another insane outfit and flung myself into the bathtub in the personal lavatory adjacent to my coffinroom. It was already full of steaming water; Filch knows about all my dramas and fills it just for me at exactly this time every day. I blared Linkin Park and grabbed the steak Flich left for me on a table by the bath, grasping the slimy tenderloin and almost, _almost_ eating it.

I.

Was.

So.

Depressed.

My English sucked. I had no mental capacity. I was beautiful and had to come up with _all of these frigging outfits _because I changed my clothes so damned much. Everybody was in love with me. Oh, and Draco had committed suicide. My life was so hard. Why was my life so hard? Was it because I _was _this strange Mary Sue, and the universe must conspire against her? Against me? Against - dammit, I was getting my pronouns mixed up.

I dragged myself out of the bath and into yet another tawdry costume. Then I looked at the window and saw… Snap! Snap Snape, Severus Snape's long-lost twin! He was video taping me _through the window, on a broomstick five hundred feet above the ground! _And some random guy named Loopin was _chewing evilly!_

'EW YOU FUCKING PERVS, STOP LOOKING AT ME NAKED! ARE YOU PAEDOPHILES OR WHAT!' I screamed, seizing a black towel. As a random detail, the towel was black and plastered with the face of Marilyn Mason, a little-known but epically gothic condom-saleswoman. Because you needed to know that, didn't you?

Vampire, wonderful sulking red-eyed Vampire swooped in out of nowhere on a big green vine like those heroes sometimes do in really old movies about true love and the wilderness.

[Insert side-splittingly unfathomable scene in which Vampire Potter discovers a new species of garden gnome in his womb, Mary Sue's non-magical weapon magically refills its clip one sixth of a gajillion times, Hargrid H. Hagrid is revealed to be a super-senior, a Satanist, and a gothic rap artist, Snap is bulletproof but doesn't have any factors, and dear Ebony feels faint.]

'Because you're gothic?' Snap asked in a low voice, scared of Santa.

'BECAUSE I LOVE HER!'

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><p>Twelve.<p>

**AN: Stop flaming, dammit! It makes complete sense to stick Hogwarts in America and bludgeon the histories and personalities and IQs of my favourite characters in order to make them more "gothic!" **

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I apparated to the hospital wing to recover from the wounds I had inflicted on myself long enough ago that if I had needed hospitalisation I would have died by now, even if I am a vampire that somehow bleeds. Madam Pomfrey charmed the scabs and wrapped up my wrists, and said I could go. I dithered, torn. If I left now, Hargrid wouldn't be able to come and see me and prove he wasn't a prep. So I told Madam Pomfrey to piss off and settled into a bed.

On cue, Hargrid shuffled in and approached my bed with his hands behind his back. He swung an arm around to reveal a bouquet of delicate pink roses. 'Ebony, I have something to say.'

'EW,' I replied, scootching back against the wall and eyeing the flowers with horrified contempt. 'Don't you know pink stuff carries Prepatitis? And _roses?_ They're, like, breeding grounds for Prepatitis!'

'They're not roses, Ebony.' Hargrid said seriously.

'What, are they goths too, you poser prep?'

'I saved your life!'

'No, you didn't, or the author would have written it in somewhere if she had any brains!'

'I - I - whatever! Listen, I'm not a prep, and these aren't roses. Look!' He turned on the bouquet still in his outstretched hand, glared evilly, and muttered to them: _'Well, if you wanted honesty, that's all you had to say!'_

I blinked. 'That's an MCR song, not a spell.'

'I know, I was just warming up my vocal cords. Ehem. _Poorly disguised lyrics of a band I really like, now warped beyond all reason so the band shall go on strike!'_

The roses burst into flame. But not a normal flame. A really gothic flame. The stems were untouched, but the petals were transformed into tongues of fire black as night. Hargrid wasn't holding a bouquet of pink roses; he was holding a bouquet of midnight fire.

I went oogley. 'Okay. I believe you. Where the hell is Draco?'

'Malfoy's gone?' Hargrid rolled his eyes. 'That boy. How do I know? Maybe this conveniently conjured fire will tell you something.'

So I stared into the gothic little pyre. The petal-tongues leapt and flickered, blocking the way to any truths that might lay in the heart of the flame. I could see nothing.

'You see, gothic grasshopper,' said Dumbledore, apparating to my side, 'to see what is in the flames, you must first find yourself, kay?'

'I HAVE FOUND MYSELF, YOU MEAN OLD MAN!' Hargrid burst out, startling the headmaster and me.

'Hargrid,' I said, 'he wasn't talking to you.' But Hargrid wasn't listening.

'You're a liar, Professor Dumbledore!' Hargrid stormed away and flung himself into a bed to pound the mattress with his fists and feet. Dumbledore and I stared at him, then at each other, shrugged, and went our separate ways.

I went to class that day in another one of my Halloween call-girl costumes, with my hair carefully arranged in a bird's nest.

'You look _kawai, _girl.' Scary Hermione said sadly, utilising new gothic jargon originating in sunny Hawaii.

'Sharp animal teeth.' I droned back. 'You too.' Then, abruptly, the weight of my troubles got to me, and I fled to my bathroom to slit my wrists again, right through Madam Pomfrey's bandages. I cried for awhile, drawing the curtains closed against any more peeping fucking Toms. Why did all the major characters have to be out to get me? Why would Loopin and Snap spy on me, didn't they have anything better to do, like save the wizarding world? No, maybe not, now that Harry Potter didn't even have a scar… But Dumbledore was the sodding headmaster, _he _had better things to do. Why would he follow me around giving superfluous advice and insulting me with all the poetical prowess of a ten-year-old? It was unfair! Unfair, unfair! And what did Dumbledore mean, anyway, that I had to find myself? I knew myself! Dammit, Dumbledore!

When I recovered, I went to another class. Vampire was there, covered in Hair of Magical Creatures from grooming Fluffy. He looked really sexy, his muscles bunching under sheet-white skin that gleamed with perspiration, his red eyes intensely focused on his task and yet so gorgeously melancholy. He ran the brush over the great dog's flank, soap running down his arm, and flicked the dog's central nose whenever it tried to snap at him. Vampire's dominance over the huge, dangerous animal was enthralling; I melted.

And then he looked at me. That intense, morose gaze lingered for a moment on mine. Then he stood, bare chest gleaming in the sunlight, his hair slicked against his forehead.

'Hi.' He said sadly.

'Hi.' I returned.

We leapt together with the inexorable pull of a magnet and began making wild animal love.

For exactly three seconds the entire class, in addition to Professor McGoggle, filling in for Hargrid while he was in St Mungo's for being a paedophile, watched with rapt attention. Then the professor, who still couldn't accept that a Mary Sue could never be one-upped in any way, started yelling. 'STOP IT NOW, YOU HORNY SIMPLETONS!'

I pulled away from Vampire, realising what I'd done, and turned it all on him. 'Vampire, you fucker!' I said, as though it were all his fault, 'Stop trying to screw me! When did you even start wanting to screw me? You know I love Draco!'

I stumbled out of our tangle of limbs with righteous indignation, intending to flee. But Vampire was not one to be upstaged.

'NOOOO!'

I whirled around again to see him doubled over in pain, clutching his head between his hands.

'OMFG!' He screamed, like a teenage girl who forgot she wasn't texting, 'NOOOO! My scar hurts! Because you can't possibly have figured that out by the fact that I'm screaming and clutching my head and I'm Harry Potter! NOOOOO!'

The class and teacher vanished, leaving us alone. I stood there and watched while his eyes rolled up in his head, seeing his red whites and wondering where the blue was.

'Draco!' He shrieked. 'No, don't hurt him! Draco! Ebony! Voldemort's got Draco!'

I gasped and hurried over. 'How do you know?'

'I see him! AAAARGH, DRACO. He's - Ebony, he's tied up and - and - _gagged - _and Voldemort's _raping him._' Vampire fell to his knees and let out a ragged, wordless cry. I continued to sit there watching his sexy dramatics, too spellbound to conjure any emotion or action or thought or anything that might further the plot or make my character believable. When he eventually sprawled on his back beside Hargrid's cabin, his hair flopped out of his eyes and exposed his forehead. I gasped again. The lightning bolt scar, which until now had served no purpose in this story, had reappeared in an angry red line across his brow.

'Vampire! I thought you didn't have a scar anymore, even though you just screamed that it hurt!'

'I do.' He sighed. 'Diablo tried to change it into a pentagram for me, but he flubbed it, so I cover it up with foundation. But Ebony, Voldemort has Draco!'

* * *

><p>Thirteen.<p>

**AN: Hey, Raven, let's do a little teenage drama thing that doesn't belong in an author's note! Did you take my sweater, bitch? So maybe I did take your Gerard Way poster, you can't have my sweater! No, I won't give Gerard back! **

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Vampire and I ran up the stairs to Dumbledore's office, so scared we didn't even care that the Headmaster was a prep and we hated preps. In hindsight, we should have approached someone gothic, but Hogwarts was becoming so corrupted that you never knew who was on what side or how long they would stay there.

'Password?' The gargoyle prompted as we reached it. Vampire, gasping for breath because he wasn't actually a vampire and therefore nowhere near as longwinded as me, let out a groan and looked at me.

'What are we going to do?' He asked.

Desperate, I could only think of that movie Beetlejuice. There was nothing else for it.

"Dumbledore, Dumbledore, Dumbledore!" I cried. Vampire, still panting, joined in. For a split second the gargoyle made a face, sticking a stony finger into its ear to stop the ringing, and my heart fell. Then -

Dumbledore appeared from nowhere."What is it that you want now, you despicable snobs?" he demanded."Voldemort has Draco!" we cried together. We have to save him!" "No." Dumbledore chuckled. "I don't give an owl pellet what Voldemort does to Draco Malfoy. A real trouble-maker, him, especially with _you_, Ebony Way.' He glared at me over his half-moon spectacles. 'And anyway, don't you need a plot? Here it is. I give it to you: if you want your lover saved, you shall have to go and do it yourself.'

And he disapparated, presumably back to his study, where he could giggle over some shitty fan fiction.

Vampire hit the wall and broke down in tears. "My Draco!" he moaned. (AN: don't you think gay guys are like so hot!)"It's okay!" I tried, but tears of blood began to streak down his face. Which, I realised vaguely, didn't make much sense. But before I could ask him when he'd been Turned, he gave a gasp. "I've got an idea!""What is it?" I demanded."You'll see." he said, for suspense. He pulled his wand from his pocket, and with a flourish and a gothic flash of black fire we emerged from nowhere in a big scary room with a sign that read "VOLDEMORT'S LAIR." I let out an appreciative "wow" and, as Vampire pulled me deeper into the lair by the hand, made a mental note to make him teach me that spell. It was way more gothic than apparating; I wondered why he'd never used it before.

The room might better be described as a cavern. It was so huge that the far wall dissolved into black, and completely barren of furnishings. The corners of the creaking wooden floor were coated in unidentifiable grime, and the corners of the ceiling were hung with shadows and cobwebs that swayed in a nonexistent breeze. It wasn't what I had expected from the lair of the most feared wizard for a hundred hears; I would have gone with more posters and a menacing torture rack or something.

'Can you see a door?' Vampire hissed, nodding his head at the wall obscured by shadow. I squinted, and could just make out a doorframe. But what was… that looked like…. I cried out and stumbled back. Nailed to the door was a Hello Kitty poster! Oh, the horror!

I tripped over the hem of my costume and fell to the floor. Vampire uttered a startled yell and crouched to help. But his pale hands never reached me.

'_Avada Kedavra!'_

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><p>Fourteen.<p>

**Fuck off, you preps! Raven, sharp animal teeth for helping again. I'm sorry I couldn't update, but I was depressed and had to go to the hospital cause I slit my wrists. Because that's the sort of thing you blast over the internet. PS I'm not updating until you give me ten good reviews!**

WARNING: THE CONTENT OF THIS CHAPTER MAY NOT BE SUITABLE FOR ENGLISH MAJORS, BIBLIOPHILES, _HARRY POTTER _FANS, JK ROWLING, OR CHILDREN OVER THREE. READER ADVISED TO SHIT HIS PANTS.

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The curse blasted through the single door and its Hello Kitty poster, missing Vampire and I by some ten feet. Screaming anyway, we scrambled up and toward the door, taking refuge on either side of the frame, where the caster couldn't see us.

'It's Wormtail!' Vampire cried, identifying the voice of his would-be killer. From within, even as Wormtail's scuffling steps approached our shelter, we heard a weak groan. Draco.

'Where's Voldemort?'

'Dunno. Maybe he stepped out for a coffee break.'

'What do we do?'

'We save him!'

'But don't we need a plan?'

'No! This is bad fiction, of course we don't need a plan!'

So, together, we leapt inside. Wormtail skidded to a halt, his rat instincts taking over the attack thing, but he had the courage to shout from a safe distance: 'Get out of my sight, you despicable preps!'

'You're the one with the Hello Kitty poster.' Vampire retorted - and pulled out a gun.

Wormtail flicked his wand before a single bullet barked, and the spell hit Vampire full in the chest.

'Vampire!' I screamed as he was thrown bodily into the far wall. I ran after him and fell to my knees by his side, forgetting Wormtail - and Draco - completely. He had crumpled to the floor beneath the large crack he'd made in the wall, blood streaming from one temple and head lolling. Keening, I took his face in my hands. 'Vampire, please, look at me! Say something!'

His glazed eyes, red and deep, found mine. I could see unspeakable pain there, and wailed, 'Oh, no, Vampire, please!'

'Ebony.' He croaked. 'Ebony.'

'Yes, I'm here, Vampire, I'm here!'

'Ebony….'

I leaned in closer to hear the broken words. His breath, when he spoke, tickled my ear.

'_Remember what Dumbledore said.'_

'What? Vampire -'

He slumped against me.

Behind me, Draco howled mutedly with grief. Closer, Wormtail laughed a horrible, squeaking laugh. Rage welled up in my chest, an explosion of hatred, and I whirled around.

"Ebony,' Wormtail beat me to words, 'I love you. Will you have sex with me?'

I stared at him for a moment, struggling with my fury and unable to comprehend. Then I began to laugh.

'You torture my boyfriend,' I advanced on him, my voice high and cold, 'you kill an innocent boy, and then you tell me you want to _fuck me?_'

He didn't seem to be capable of movement. He stared at me with his little rat eyes wide, shuddering, as I slid Draco's silver knife from my sleeve.

'You already have.' I hissed.

I ran him through.

'I completely understand, though.' I told him as he gurgled. 'Hard to pass up a piece of ass without a brain.'

With Wormtail dead on the floor, I fled to the other room. Draco was braced against a rack and struggling against the chains, tears streaming down his bloodied face. His cries were stifled by a gag, but I knew the name he was keening: "Vampire." I tore his bonds away and held him as he sobbed.

'He can't be dead,' Draco moaned. 'He can't be dead. It's not in the original!'

'Artistic license.' I choked around the lump in my throat. 'Come on… We have to get you out of here…'

I took hold of his hand and apparated to my dorm at Hogwarts. Miraculously, as soon as Draco stepped out of the void, his injuries were gone. He sighed in relief and fell into my coffin. I stood by the window and started to cry."What's wrong, honey?" asked Draco. He was pulling off his goth clothes, having forgotten his ordeal absolutely, and even in the depths of despair I noted and appreciated his caricatured physique. 'It's so unfair!' I shrieked. This wasn't at all the appropriate time, Vampire being dead and all, and Draco just having been tortured for no reason, but I had to voice what was _really _tearing me apart. 'Why can't I just be ugly or plain like all the other girls and preps?'Draco blinked. 'Why would you want to be ugly? I don't like the preps anyway. They're such sluts.''Yeah, but everyone is in love with me! Like Snape and Loopin, taking a fucking video of me naked. Hargrid says he's in love with me. Vampire likes - liked - me and even Wormtail professed his undying devotion! I just want to be with _you_, Draco! Why couldn't Santa have made me less fucking _beautiful_?" I shouted angrily. '_And _I'm good at too many things! WHY CAN'T I JUST BE NORMAL? IT'S A FUCKING CURSE.'

I broke down and fled.

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><p>Fifteen.<p>

**AN: Stop flaming, ok? You suck. From now on every time someone flames me I'm gonna slit my wristses! Sharp animal teeth to Raven for helping!**

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'Ebony!' cried Draco. 'No, please, come back!'"Whatever! Go have sex with Vampire!" I shouted.

A pause. Then -

'But he's dead!'

'Harry Potter died the minute Tara put pen to paper,' I shrieked back, 'But that didn't stop you from humping his cold, stiff corpse, did it?'

I slammed my bathroom door with a resounding CRACK and wept. My hands shook as I drew a razor from the medicine cabinet and dragged the blade across my skin. Once. Twice. Thrice…. Then I looked at my black GC watch and noticed it was time to go to Biology class. Yeah, I know that's a weird thing to notice in the throes of despair, and I know Hogwarts doesn't actually _offer _a biology class, but you know what, I'm like that.

Anyhow. Instant good mood; clothes! I dolled myself up in yet another costume, this one in rather bad taste in the overly-matching area, and spelled my hair so it stuck out like I'd just been hit by lightning. I paid some attention in advanced Biology, but got distracted and started doodling. I was turning a previously drawn pentagram into a guitar when, suddenly, the guitar turned into Draco!'Ebony, I love you!' he shouted from the parchment. "I don't care what those fucker preps and posers think. You're the most beautiful girl in the world. Before I met you I used to want to commit suicide all the time. Now I just wanna fucking be with you. I fucking love you!' And he began to sing _the Chronicles of Life and Death _right in front of the entire class! His singing voice was so amazing and gothic and sexy, like a cross between Gerard, Joel, Chester, Pierre and Marilyn Manson (AN: don't you think those guys are so hot? If you don't know who they are, get the fuck out of here! (And no, crossing those five musicians would _not _result in a voice so warped it would shatter glass at a B-flat at like two decibles)). Draco leapt out of the doodle, landing gracefully beside my desk.'Oh, my Santa.' I crowed. 'I fucking love you!' Some preps stared at us, but I flipped them the bird, and we kissed. It was just like Hilary Duff (I fucking hate that bitch) and Chad Michael Murray in a Cinderella Story (No, that film's not preppy). I grabbed Draco's hand and we gambolled out of the classroom amid a shower of daisies and red tulips. Loopin tried shouting at us, but his voice was drowned in a din of cheering as the class gave our parody a standing ovation.

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><p><em>This shit confuses me more and more every time I try to wrap my head around it. Just re-read one of the later chapters, twenty-three I think it was; which bloody year did Umbridge <em>and _Lupin teach, dammit? _

_Please review. I need a surprising amount of motivation for this thing._


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